


like no night has been

by ivegotablanket



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confession, M/M, Post Season 2, Post series finale, Season 2, idk what else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 06:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8152330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivegotablanket/pseuds/ivegotablanket
Summary: Angela tells Elliot about the phone call. Tyrell makes a visit.





	

_I love him._

After Angela finally finished running down last week’s events with Elliot – now back to his sloppy, lifeless flat, and still recovering from his severe wound – the only thing he was able to focus on was the phone call.

Angela told him everything occurred according to all security protocols, those they had established a long time ago. The call could not have been tracked under any circumstance, _a secure line_ , she assured Tyrell. Then, the end of their conversation was what caught Elliot’s attention more than the entire complicated scheme.

“Tyrell sounded terrified, Elliot.” She said, a serious expression and lower tone indicating how she also was not expecting his deep, strong reaction. “He’s been focused and controlled through the whole operation, you’d know it if you could remember.” Elliot flinched, uncomfortable at the thought. “But in that moment, I could feel in his voice he was about to break.”

Later she said he did, after all. He started crying, vulnerable and helpless. _He said he loved you._ Her voice reverberating in Elliot’s mind. _Three words, I love him, and we were finished._ Nearly impossible to understand how Tyrell could have been so emotionally driven in that moment, desperately revealing to Angela something, Elliot admits, he had not thought he was capable of genuinely feeling.

Elliot could barely remember hearing the sound of an ambulance approaching the building that day. After that, everything went dark and frigid. He believed, truly, that Tyrell would not shoot him. He thought that, at least this time, he could permanently trick his own mind. _It’s time to finally take back control._ Unfortunate, wishful thinking.

However, was it? After all, the whole scene irrevocably proved what he wanted more than anything, ending what has been a source of great anguish and regret: Tyrell was real, alive and safe. He (or Mr. Robot?) had not killed nor harmed him. The relief Elliot felt was unspoken, unnoticed, but it was there; a heavy weight finally removed from his already damaged shoulders, which carried burdens he not once wished to sustain.

_I love him._

Why did he choose that moment – an urgent, secret phone call with Angela – to say (confess?) that? For how long did Tyrell bury the feeling inside him? Bury, perhaps, a strong word. In retrospect, Tyrell was never one to hide how peaceful and yet euphoric he felt around Elliot. Touchy, gentle and eager to please him. Elliot, of course, could not simply ignore the circumstances of their friendship; too many interests and mind games involved. Tyrell, he knew, could turn cold and distant once the business no longer benefited him.

“When you were at the hospital he’d visit you every day and stay for hours.” Angela said, now calmly, paying attention to his reaction. She knew he did not deal well at all with feelings, especially too overwhelming ones. “Even changed the flowers in your room.”

Elliot observed her, trying to conceal the image of Tyrell coming and going with different kinds of flowers, wearing his predictable grey and expensive suits, and remembering the day he woke up alone and consciously noticed how the white lilies on his right were, indeed, fresh and pretty. He could not help but smile, a bit sadly. He missed him. That day when he, not Mr. Robot, finally met Tyrell again and had time to process his presence, after the taxi fiasco, Elliot noticed his smell – and how it had made a home in his very absent, confused mind.

“Well, I should go. It’s getting late.” Angela said, giving Elliot a gentle kiss on the temple. “Take care, Elliot, I mean it.” A motherly tone took place as she was heading out. “Don’t forget your meds. I’ll try to come again tomorrow.”

That night was silent and calm. He was not in pain, but felt no desire for moving from his bed, not even to eat. Too many thoughts crossing his brain, loud voices asking unresolved and answerless questions; Darlene, Dark Army, Whiterose, E-corp, the future. A louder one, though, danced in the background and was no longer just a blurry possibility, a forgotten piece of his dazed imagination. _All this time, the touches, the looks and protectiveness actually meant something, then? I wasn’t just overanalyzing and trying to find justifications, holes in his emotions. Perhaps, Tyrell cared more than what I could let myself process. I do not know if I was ever supposed to find out. Will I see him again? And by “I” I mean this part of me – not the twisted, intangible one._

The noise, suddenly, let go of him. The medication filled his bloodstream as he fell asleep. That night, the same dream he had months ago returned: everyone he holds dear happily gathering around a massive banquet table – this time, though, Tyrell sat next to him.

 

✧

 

When Elliot woke up, it was past 1:00 p.m. He could not remember when was the last time he slept for more than 4 hours. He felt his eyes and muscles heavy – the antibiotics and painkillers were absurdly strong, but he did not complain. It was good to feel intoxicated and numb because of legal drugs, for once. He was never one to perceive the weather, but the temperature felt cool and he could hear a smooth wind outside making the branches battle each other.

After getting out of bed to feed Qwerty, now back in living with him, Elliot noticed a piece of paper in front of his door, probably slipped through the small gap beneath it, while he was asleep. He caught it, anxiously. A hurried, cursive handwriting made his heart jump.

_Need to see you. I’ll be there by night._

Of course, the only name to cross his mind was obvious. _It’s too risky to come all the way here, what could he possibly want?_

He remembered the phone call.

 

_✧_

His bed clock marked 11:30 p.m. when a sudden knock startled him. Elliot walked slowly, hesitantly, to the door.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s okay, Elliot. It’s me.”

The muffled but unmistakable voice hit him like a punch. It was exactly who he had been expecting, of course, but there was a monumental difference between imagination and reality.

Elliot finally turned the knob and a pair of tired blue eyes met him.

“Tyrell.” His voice sounded emotionless, as it usually did, but a twinge of anxiety indicated quite the opposite.

Tyrell stepped inside, his expression softening, as he got closer to Elliot; he lifted his right hand, slowly, tenderly, and landed it on his face. His perfume filled Elliot’s nostrils quickly and he closed his eyes for a few seconds, breathing calmly and letting the smell in.

Suddenly, Elliot understood.

He lifted his own hand, holding Tyrell’s on his face, as if he did not want to let go.

“I know.” He said mildly, following Tyrell’s gaze, now both staring at each other; their faces awfully close, their breaths harmonizing.

“I was so worried. I’m so sorry, Elliot.” He has never seen Tyrell so vulnerable before, so regretful. “I could never hurt you again.”

“You only did what you had to do.” Elliot said, softly, trying to comfort the man in front of him. The man he wanted to protect more than anyone, he has come to realize.

Their faces got impossibly closer when, in the most natural movement, their lips met. A kiss that started delicately - recreating the white lilies in Elliot’s mind, like he could feel the flowers' taste - and turned into a hungry demonstration of something they had been holding back for a long time; Tyrell’s hands were holding the back of Elliot’s neck as the shorter man tightened a grip around his waist. A humid, deep kiss that screamed the fear they had of future separation.

After a long moment, they broke apart, their foreheads still touching; Elliot found himself on his tiptoes, both men regaining their breaths.

“When you said you loved me,” he began in a weak and sadly doubtful voice; his intense eyes not daring to blink. “did you really mean _me_?”

Tyrell smiled. “I love every version of you.” He answered, quietly, stroking Elliot’s cheek with his thumb; his skin felt like velvet. “I love you entirely.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally my first complete fic ever and English is not my first language, so i'm sorry for any mistakes and thank you for giving it a shot :-)  
> title is a reference to the song If you go away by Neil Diamond


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